


Warhammer

by dabs_into_oblivion



Series: gendrya [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-23 12:25:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18549730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dabs_into_oblivion/pseuds/dabs_into_oblivion
Summary: Sometimes family don't follow the same path. Set after the second battle of Winterfell; the living survive.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> GENDRYA IS CANON HOLY SHIT
> 
> anyway hopefully they won't die

She can't find him. She's been all over Winterfell and she can't find him.

Jon finds her in the crypts, staring desolately at their father. After a while, he says, "Arya, I have something to tell you."

She stands very still and listens to the world-changing revelation that her favorite brother was never her brother. When he finishes, she nods, then turns her head to look at him. "To me you'll always be my brother Jon, who gave me Needle."

His smile is relief, pain, joy as he gathers her into his arms. Several moments later he releases her. "Is there something between you and Gendry?"

She inhales. "I think it's time you knew what I've been doing since Father died."

And so she tells him, her voice small yet still echoing against the walls of the crypts, and he says nothing for a long time after she finishes. Except she isn't finished, and she tells him about the night before the battle began, and she very nearly tells him the rest, but he stops her with a finger to her lips.

"Have you seen him?"

She shakes her head, willing tears away. She is Arya Stark of Winterfell. She does not cry. "Can't find him."

"Try the godswood," says Jon softly.

He's there, of course, and she moves quietly in the snow until she's standing next to him.

"Arya." He hasn't looked at her yet, but she knows he must feel it, the almost magnetic pull between them. He draws a ragged breath. "You're alive."

"So are you," she whispers, and turns to him, taking his face in her hands, taking his mouth with hers.

He returns her kiss, wrapping his arms around her, lifting her off her feet. He pauses to murmur, "Let's go somewhere warm?"

She pulls away. "My chambers. Five minutes."

Later, as they lie side by side, he tells her, "Both your brother and the queen have promised to give me Storm's End."

She stares at the ceiling, heart bursting with the things she wants to tell him, head knowing she can't.

He props himself up on an elbow, tracing her collarbones with a lazy finger. "You didn't used to be this quiet."

She meets his eyes, and they're warm. Protective. She doesn't need protecting. She sits up and kisses him. "Maybe I used to be annoying."

He smiles. "Maybe. But I liked Arry."

She kisses him again, harder. "Arry wasn't real."

He stops her, then, hands on her shoulders stopping her from coming close. "Is this real, Arya?"

"Yes. Of course it is."

He searches her face. "You're not just trying to prove something with me?"

With a smirk, she asks, "What would I be trying to prove?"

He shakes his head, and when his eyes return to hers, they're more serious, more intense. "Something happened to you in Braavos, something that's changed who you are, and I don't know if you're sane."

She recoils, takes a breath, wills her arms to stay at her sides. She focuses on the wall, on a knot in the wood, and breathes. Then she looks at him and says, "The men who sold you to the Red Woman. Their names were on my list. You know who else is on my list? People who have hurt my family." He opens his mouth, but she places a finger against it. "You are my family, Gendry, and I'm not good at showing my family that I love them. I thought," -- she pauses, gathering her courage -- "I thought if I gave myself to you, you'd know."

He is staring at her. She stares back, refusing to say any more. Let him confess, let him beg for her.

"Arya, I -- gods." He chuckles slightly. "Will you tell me what happened to you, at least?"

She shakes her head. "Not today." She doesn't explain herself; she doesn't need to.

He nods, as though he was expecting that response, then says, "I don't really know how to be a lord."

She lies back against the pillows, gazing at him. He fumbles on. "And I would never -- that is, I'm not -- I don't want to be like the other lords. I don't want a lady wife. I don't want -- I mean, I do want a wife who's a lady, but not because she's a lady." He looks down. "What I'm trying to say is, will you have me?"

"You're asking me to leave my family," she says.

"No. I'll turn down Storm's End. I'll --"

She shakes her head. "You belong there. It was your father's home."

He laughs. "Yes, my drunk father who fucked more whores than Tyrion Lannister and Bronn of the Blackwater combined." She raises an eyebrow at him, and he continues, "You're my family, Arya. If you stay here, I stay here too."

"Even if you stay here, I won't marry you."

He frowns. "But --"

She sits up, resting a hand on his shoulder, her other hand on his neck. "I'm not a lady. I don't do things like a lady. I've never wanted to get married." She kisses him gently. "And you should go to Storm's End before you decide."

\----------------

Cersei is dead, and Arya carries her face in her saddlebag. She's to ride north, but something pulls her toward the Stormlands. She sends a raven from King's Landing before setting out.

When she arrives, the guard tells her Lord Baratheon has gone to Winterfell, to bend the knee to King Aegon and Queen Daenerys. Arya can't quite believe her ears, but she rides north anyway.

The road is snowy and dark, and game is scarce, so it's a miserable few weeks until she arrives at Winterfell.

Jon meets her in the courtyard. "Have you heard?"

Instead of answering, she gives him a low bow. "King Aegon."

He pulls her up. "Stop that!" As they walk into the Great Hall, he says, "Sansa is Wardeness of the North. I need a good match for her, one who will provide an heir, and I need it before I go to King's Landing with Dany. Any suggestions?"

Arya promises she'll think about it, and then she sees him. He's wearing the nicest clothing she's ever seen him in, and with the sword strapped to his waist he looks so good she almost drags him to her rooms that instant. Almost.

Daenerys rises to greet them, and everything becomes a blur. Arya is aware that she's being even more taciturn than usual. Eventually, they settle down, and Daenerys asks whether Cersei is dead.

"She is, your Grace." Arya bows slightly. "I can show you her face, if you'd like."

"Her face?" The queen's eyes widen for a second. "No, that will not be necessary, Lady Arya."

"I'm not a lady," she mutters to no one in particular.

Daenerys addresses the room. "Now that Cersei Lannister is dead, King Aegon and I will depart in one sennight. If there is no more business --"

"Your Grace." Brienne of Tarth has risen, and now walks to the center of the hall. "As I am to be captain of the Kingsguard, I would like to do one thing before I leave Winterfell."

"Anything, Lady Brienne," says Jon.

Brienne grimaces slightly. "Well, that's just the thing, your Grace. The night before the battle, Ser Jaime knighted me, and said that any knight can knight another. With your permission, and hers, I'd like to knight Lady Arya Stark."

Sansa rises to her feet. "And I would like to offer the soon-to-be Ser Arya the position of Captain of the Guards in my household."

Jon says, "You have my consent." Daenerys looks at him and nods.

Brienne turns to face Arya and draws her sword. "Kneel, Lady Arya."

It's very quick, and afterwards everyone wants to congratulate her. She finds herself with a mug of ale in her hand, in the center of a crowd, and no Gendry in sight.

Sansa penetrates the throng, taking Arya's hand and tugging her away. They run down corridors until they're both gasping for breath; Sansa is stronger than she looks.

Panting, leaning against the wall, Arya says, "Captain of the Guards?"

"Practical and sentimental," replies her sister. "I want you near me, there's no one else I trust, and if I don't give you a job, someone else will."

Arya nods. "I would have gone to Storm's End, if he had asked first." She breathes for a few moments, then, quietly, "He won't ask now, will he?"

Sansa looks at her. "Why? Do you want him to?"

Arya doesn't need to answer; her sister knows.

\----------------

 It's a cold morning. All of her mornings will be cold, now; the winter will last until long after she's dead. She knows he's left his hammer in the forge, so she waits for him there.

He's not long in coming, and when he sees her, she hears him curse under his breath.

"What's the matter, milord?" she asks, picking up the hammer. "Were you trying to avoid a goodbye?"

He reaches for the hammer, but she holds it against her. He turns away, lifting his hands in frustration, and turns back and strides to her and kisses her harder than he ever has before.

She leans into him, kissing him, enjoying him, until he abruptly pulls away, leaving her angry. Good. They haven't had a proper fight in far too long.

He paces, muttering. Eventually he spins round to glare at her. "You tell me I'm your family, but because I'm not your blood, you won't come with me?"

She lets the hammer drop to the ground. "If you offered me a position that wasn't just your wife or your lover, I would! I'm more than a pretty face and a warm cunt!"

"Be my Captain of the Guards, then! Or is that not an option now that your sister's asked you?"

"She doesn't trust anyone else!" She's sure they've woken half the castle, but she can't bring herself to care, because all she wants to do is kiss him and keep kissing him until she can't breathe.

"She'll find someone." He's breathing hard, the way she was with Sansa the night she returned, the way one does after a battle, and she unconsciously takes a step closer to him. "I love you, Arya, and I won't find anyone else."

She's shaking her head.

"You don't need to marry me, but I won't father bastards: any child you bear, I will raise as my own." He closes the gap between them but doesn't touch her. "You can be my Captain of the Guards, my master-at-arms, anything you like. I just want you near me."

Her eyes are closed, and when she opens them, she finds him so close she could kiss him without even thinking about it.

"Gendry," she begins, and finds that she has nothing else to say.

He steps away, around her to pick up his hammer, and past her to the door, where he pauses and says without turning, "You know where to find me if you change your mind."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay i said i wasn't gonna, but here.
> 
> i'm not sorry. as i've written them here, i don't think their goals and desires for their lives are compatible, and i wanted to honor that.

When Arya holds Sansa's firstborn in her arms, she cries for the first time since she was a girl.

When Sansa asks her to train not just her boys but her girls, Arya thinks she might burst.

When little Cat announces one day that she wants to be "just like Ser Arya one day," no one laughs. They take her seriously. And when Daenerys and Jon -- he will never be Aegon to them -- offer a marriage between their son Drogon and Catelyn Stark, Sansa tells them to ask her daughter.

Life is good, thinks Arya.

Cat has agreed to marry Drogon, but only if she doesn't have to be queen, and he's given up the throne for her. His sister Elia, who looks so much like the statue of Lyanna it's almost terrifying, will be queen when their parents die. It seems as though the entire world has gathered in King's Landing for the wedding, even though Cat wants the ceremony to be private. That doesn't stop the masses from getting so drunk they piss in the streets.

So when she sees him, it's like the wind has been knocked out of her, even though there are lords from every other kingdom except Dorne, which is still in chaos. And when he sees her, he nods, once, before turning back to his conversation.

Later, at dinner, she is seated next to a Lady Meera, who looks a little familiar. They exchange polite small talk, Meera reserved, Arya more than willing to eat in silence. And then she thinks, maybe this is Meera Reed, and so she asks.

"I was, ser," replies Meera, setting her wine glass down, "and now I am Lady of Storm's End."

"Lady Baratheon," says Arya woodenly. "It's a pleasure. I was once great friends with your husband."

"Yes, he has spoken of it," and Meera smiles.

Arya has to swallow several times before she trusts herself to say, "I hope that you have made each other happy, my lady."

She finds herself with no appetite, and pushes the food around her plate until Jon rises and the meal is over.

Next morning, she is in the training yard with Cat, fighting with her right hand tied behind her back to give the other an advantage. Still, Cat is slightly slower, doesn't anticipate quite so well, and Arya is glad she's not useless as she grows older. When she touches Needle's tip to the front of her niece's jacket, just over her collarbone, there is a smattering of applause. She turns and locks eyes with  _him._

He approaches. "Well fought, Ser Arya. Lady Catelyn."

"I have not had the pleasure of meeting you yet, my lord Baratheon." For all her similarities to Arya, Cat is much better at being polite.

With a bow, Gendry replies, "The pleasure is mine." He hesitates, then, "Ser Arya, I wonder if I might speak with you."

When neither Stark moves, he adds, "Alone."

She nods. "Walk with me."

As they cross the yard, he says, "You have met my lady wife, I understand."

"She is lovely." Arya keeps her hands clasped loosely behind her back. "Is there an heir yet?"

"Two, in fact. Twins. A boy and a girl. They are not yet five."

She breathes, knowing if she doesn't concentrate on that, she will faint. "I congratulate you."

They walk on in silence for several paces.

She knows he must have something to say to her, but he isn't saying it, and what she's been feeling all these years bubbles out of her, uncontrolled. "Gendry, I was wrong."

He stops, turns to her.

"You were giving me an impossible choice, but I should have asked you to stay. You were as much my family as Sansa." She won't look at him, can't look at him. "I'm glad you have family now."

"Arya . . . " he sighs. "We named her after you. Our daughter."

Gods, she doesn't want to know that. "I don't care. We fucked a few times, that hardly means you owe me anything."

"You know it was more than that."

She meets his eyes, and they're more beautiful than she remembers. "Whatever it was, it can't be anything now."

He lowers his eyes. "Ser Arya, I was wondering if you might come to Storm's End after the wedding. To train my children."

A colossally bad idea. "I am sorry, my lord. My place is in Winterfell."

He steps closer to her, whispers, "If I were not married, would your answer be different?"

"If you were not married, the question would be different," she replies, "and my answer would be yes."

The few moments in which they stare into each other's eyes will need to be enough for half a lifetime.

Then he blinks, and a smooth mask slips over his face. "I wish you good fortune, Ser Arya."

She bows, knowing she will never come south again. "And you, Lord Baratheon."


End file.
